Rift Magic
by Zoe-M
Summary: What happens when two worlds combine? What if life as you knew it was a total lie? What would you do if your life changed to become one of magic? This is the story of Alyssa Blakeney. Eragon & co. appear from chapter 4 onwards .
1. Memories

This is my first 'Inheritence Cycle' fanfiction, so it may be a little different…

All critiques are always welcomed.

Disclaimer: I do not own the 'Inheritence Cycle', however the majority of the ideas included are my own. So be original and don't be a copycat.

I would like to thank 'Forestwater' and 'sparrowhawk51' for all their support in my writing—and especially to 'Forestwater' for consistently being an ace beta reader :)

Please Note: This chapter is a **prologue**, all information contained is relevant.

Key:

_*flashback/visions*_

Translations are at the end.

Hope you enjoy it! ^;^

Zoe x

In a dimension unknown to Alagaësia, a new world lies — or perhaps it was old? — cradled in the stars. Its name is Earth. This world was different from the Alagaësia, for the only magic was of make-believe. This world has seen many wars and also many wonders. There was always beauty around; you just have to really open your eyes to see it. The idea of magic became only of myths and legends; the last remnants remain with books. This world has millions upon millions of these treasures, but no matter how great they are, one can only step into the world of magic briefly. This world was highly hectic and the old ways were stripped. Few ever stop to smell the roses; few ever realise the roses exist.

Within a large spiraled stone tower, an ebony-rimmed glass stood centre over a sweet cherry wood table. It was fairly dark, as the sun had said its farewells to the midnight blue sky, leaving the earth exposed to the dark — except for the odd candle glows throughout the tower. Nature's song lulled the nearby forests into a pleasant slumber. You could hear it from the slanted windows; it was hard resisting joining in alongside it. The stone walls were rough and cold, although comforting for they were a somewhat pleasant shelter. A hard clunking sound came up the spiral steps, and an old fellow emerged. He was small and meek-looking, yet his grey eyes told of age and wisdom. He wore a simple black robe that was faded with age.

He stepped closer to the table. With a weathered hand outstretched, he traced the outlines of the ebony rim and focused on the glass. He leaned in, looking deeply into the glass before him and analysing each detail. He muttered something, and the clouds swirling over the glass's surface began to change. Strange shapes began to appear in the glass -- a hand here, a face there, a tree near the bottom, all of them twisted and demented. The old man leaned in closer until his nose almost touched the glass, and his body went slack as he fell under the glass's spell.

*

"_There is a massive world I see. It holds many secrets -- for that, I continue to look. There is much death and destruction here; I can see the past and the future, and believe this pain will never end. Many thousands have died from false leadership, many times crimson droplets rained down. Like our own world, there are many languages, but the different quantities of those tongues are vast. The different cultures are ever-changing as it separates the people. Towards the cities great towers loom, which rip into the skies. Across it metal dragons fly, holding many within its belly. Many billions occupy this over-crowded place, draining its spirit rapidly as they grow in number. This world contains such vast knowledge it appears alien and unreal to the eye. However, this world is full of greed and hate. Thick smogs grow to smother the planet with unearthly embers, encasing it and blocking out the sun. The old wonders begin to fade as the new rockets upward. This is the world that begins to forget its own history._

_"But there is hope. I see its people fighting to protect it. I see the weak given strength once more. I see forgiveness emerging from lost souls. This is a world that has potential, if led in the right direction."_

_*_

A strong, broad man tugged him away, stunning the fellow in the process. He turned and looked into the man's eyes.

"Is that all you see? Is there any chance—" But he cut himself off before continuing. If you looked closely, just for a brief moment, you would have seen a faint glimmer of hope shine within his aged, green eyes. He returned to the exhausted fellow before him and away from his thoughts.

"Could the Crystal Lily be there?" he questioned, shaking the old man roughly for an answer.

"I-I don't—" he mumbled. The stronger man shook him violently.

"Could the Crystal Lily be there?!?" The fellow, dazed and worn, shrugged once more and, with one last apologetic glance, shut his old crinkled eyes and collapsed.

The stronger man caught him just in time; one second later and he would have injured his drained body. Not knowing what to do, he placed the man carefully onto the plush red seat beside the window, and then stood erect once more. This was not what he had wanted.

He looked down towards the fellow beneath him in frustration.

"There has got to be a way," he huffed, put his hand to his head and moved a few strands of dark hair behind his pointed ears. He closed his eyes in denial, hoping an idea would strike him when he opened them, but none did come. Frustrated at his lack of ideas he charged out of the room, disgusted and annoyed.

"She will be found," he paused "there has to be a way."

"Arggg!" He smashed his fist against the oak table. A loud _crack_ rang in the air. Why was he so incompetent?

"I _will _find a way," he breathed.

He inhaled deeply and smoothed out the creases in his green robes. With one last glance towards the fallen magician, he made his exit from the tower and descended down the spiral stairs. He passed few on his way to his destination. He ought to send someone to help his comrade, even if Tegalad had failed him.

He grabbed the arm of a passing maiden. "Go to the tower over there. Someone needs help." He couldn't recall her name. But minor details such as names were not important to him right now. Obediently she turned and hurried back the way he'd came.

He'd thank her later. Maybe.

The tight corridor widened as he entered a new set of pine doors and into a hall fit for a king. This room was built of stone also, but foliage that covered each corner and wall. Thick vines coated the ceiling with bright flowers and fruits splattered here and there. Normally this was his favourite room, but not now. A whiff of sweet citrus hit him, making his heart throb painfully. His jaw tightened. _She_ adored citrus fruits; oranges were _her_ favourite. He shook it off with a sigh. She was not lost just yet –just not quite here.

He made his way through the enclosed forest and towards the governors' table. It had room for five, but today only two would be present. As he came nearer, he hesitated. He did not feel like sitting. He wanted to get back into action. To find _her_.

A tall man closed the space between himself and the green-robed man. He wore deep crimson robes that just touched the ground beneath him. A ruby ring wound around his finger like a snake. He looked towards the green-robed man and placed two fingers to his lips. _"Atra esterni ono thelduin."_

_"Mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta onr,"_ he replied.

_"Un du evarinya ono varda. Ebrithil Ruscion."_ He bowed. "What's the plan?" he asked, straightening up and loosening his collar.

_"Daugon, pömnuria fricai."_ He sighed, "As much as I wish there was a plan, I don't have any ideas."

"But, what about Ra -- I mean, the Crystal Lily? Surely you haven't given up on her just yet?" He raised his eyebrows incredulously.

"Of course not!" he yelled, smashing his fist into the table. He froze, realizing what he had done, and he stepped back. His hand was shaking. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to --"

"It's fine. It's only rational to behave as such. But I _would_ prefer it if you didn't express these emotions at the present time — or dent the furniture. We have business to attend to." He pulled a long, string-bound scroll out from inside of his robe pocket.

"Surely that can't…" He trailed off, studying the scroll with wide eyes.

"I have reason to believe a shade was seen following the Crystal Lily. We do not know if he entered the void, but there _is_ a chance --"

"That he poisoned her," the other man breathed, sinking into one of the chairs littered about the room.

Daugon nodded. At least there was still a chance for the other event to go smoothly. Maybe the shade wouldn't find either of them.

"Is there . . . Is there any chance that she could make it?" He looked towards Daugon hopefully. It was now or never. He needed to know the truth. No matter how much it pained him, he had to know.

Daugon bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. He wiped it away, ignoring the red smear it left on his hand. He didn't like this -- he was just the messenger. It wasn't _his_ fault.

But maybe if he'd —

No, he shouldn't think about it; it was a tough decision, but he had had to do it. No regrets.

He looked directly into Ruscion's fierce eyes. He took a deep breath. "There is a small chance."

Ruscion's face froze for a second, torn between pure joy and pain that this torturous waiting and searching wasn't over. Then a smile spread across his face. "I knew it. My Crystal Lily is a strong girl. No poison could hold her down!"

"But. . . ."

"But what?"

"If the shade has poisoned her, she only has a century or two at most."

"But we'll find her, and give her the antidote."

"I'm afraid that's a lot easier said that done. The shade is known for using black magic. If we cannot find her in time, it'll be too late."

"So why are we still standing here? Let's get going!" He leapt to his feet, grabbing his cloak, and beckoned Daugon over. "Aren't you coming?"

"I'm sorry, sir, I cannot let you go." He gnawed at the inside of his cheek, trying to figure out the best way to say it. "You're forgetting about the prophecy. If you leave, you may not be able to return in time."

Ruscion collapsed to his knees, letting his head fall into his hands. Daugon and a few others came instantly to support the man, but he turned them away.

He couldn't see. He couldn't think. He couldn't _breathe_. If she was lost, it was over.

"She is lost," he cried, with a rogue tear left to crash to the ground. He tried to shake it off, but the feeling of loss overwhelmed him. She couldn't be dead, he wouldn't believe it. Well that was what they all assumed; just _lost_ they'd say…lost meaning dead, deceased, kicked the bucket.

Memories flashed through his mind, each one bringing more pain. If he could cut out the part of his brain that made him feel, made him remember. . . . But the memories were coming too fast for him to think, let alone find a knife. He could do nothing but cradle his head and cry.

*

_A few yards away, a garden that had once been bursting with life was dusted with a layer of frost. Stone steps snaked between the plants, seemingly immune to the white ice that had coated the plants. White- and yellow-petaled jasmine vines gripped the edges of the cold walls to the left and right of him. They were delicate to touch. A sweet, rich, and heady aroma filled the cool air. The stars hung in the sky like an infant's glittering mobile. A soft chirping filled his ears as he began to walk._

_And then he saw her. The one he loved._

_She turned towards him, a smile spreading across her face. That smile . . . that perfect, __magic__ smile. It made all her flaws go away, and everything beautiful about her -- to him, that was __everything__ about her -- shine that much more brightly._

_"Ruscion," she said, and extended her hand out to him._

_He looked towards her hand and chuckled. He looked directly at her and shook his head. She let her hand fall, her face never losing the smile but her green eyes darkening with hurt. She bit her lip and tucked her dark brown hair behind her ears. "Are you all right?" she asked, and the concern in her voice made his heart swell with affection and wonder._

_This girl, who Fate had left unmarried just so that they could find each other, cared about him. Ruscion, a tall muscular elf, who couldn't always control his emotions. Ruscion, a general but otherwise nothing special. That was the one she loved._

_Him and no one else._

_He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, taking care not to crush her against his chest. She stood up on her toes to kiss his ear. _"_Ruscion." How he adored the way she whispered his name . . . like it was a lullaby._

_They sat together on the bench for a long time, just happy to be together. He took that moment in, savoring it. He could remember cradling her petite body against his and smelling that smell that was unique to her and whose only close cousin was some combination of a flower garden and a fruit cocktail._

"_Ruscion," she murmured, pulling away from him._

"_Hmm?" He lifted one of her hands and kissed it._

"_I . . . I'm going away for a while. There's something I need to investigate."_

_Ruscion immediately stopped and looked quizzically at her. She couldn't really be going, could she? It was the winter solstice. Investigations could wait._

"_I'll be back soon, though! Promise!" she assured him, and kissed him softly on the lips._

_*_

_Once again the awful truth tore him from the scene._

And the memory was ripped from his grasp. He was falling. Left behind. Forgotten. Alone.

His eyes became vacant as his soul wandered lost. A warrior without his sword is only one-half a warrior.

Incomplete. That's what love does to you. Makes you whole — then incomplete once more. But this time you could _feel_ the incompleteness.

For many days upon months he, Ruscion, was rendered speechless. A broken heart was worse than any other ailment. It was the silent killer. The sniper without the _bang_. It was the death of a part of you. Part of you that may never return.

Translations:

_Atra esterni ono thelduin_ = May good fortune rule over you

_Mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta onr_ = Peace live in your heart

_Un du evarinya ono varda_ = And the stars watch over you

_pömnuria fricai_ = my friend

_ebrithil_ = master

Hope you enjoyed it. And if you have a spare minute, please review! :)


	2. Coming of Age

Hey all! Sorry I took so long to update--I'll try to be quicker next time 'kay?

Eragon & Co. Should begin to appear in chapters 3-4 onwards.

I would like to say a special thanks to 'Forestwater' for being a consistently ace beta reader…even if I sometimes think they're too good :)

Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritence Cycle – Christopher Paolini does. However in this particular chapter, all of the ideas are my own. I may be basing my fanfiction on the Inheritence Cycle, but mostly I try to use my own ideas.

Key:

_Character thoughts_

_*flashback/visions*_

Translations are at the end.

Rift Magic: Chapter Two - Coming of Age

She had woken with a start, her hair tangled and limp. A pang of fresh misery clung in her mind. It was that same dream. That dream she could never recall moments after. _I would hate this dream so much less if I could just remember _why_ I hate it,_ she fumed.

Tucking a few strands of brown hair behind her ears, she groggily squinted at the clock. It read 07:00. Yawning, she decided to get dressed before all the mayhem began.

She wasn't a moody person, she just despised birthdays. Ever since the accident . . . it just wasn't the same.

She could remember _this,_ at least. All those years ago, waking up excitedly and dashing around the house. Screaming and shouting, "It's my birthday!" Then her brother Leo would join in alongside her. "Nar, it's my birthday!" Then they'd both start giggling, much to their father's amusement. Except when they'd tackle him, anyway. That wiped the smile off of his face. But it had been his own fault; he'd been the one who'd allowed them to take karate lessons.

The memory may not have been perfect, but just remembering the three of them together -- not her mother, though. Never her mother -- just put the gleam back into her eyes.

Pulling a red t-shirt over her head and stepping over the many items strewn across the floor, she walked over to the photo of _their_ 11th birthday.

Trapped inside a frame were two sheepish-looking kids and their father. The girl had long hair while her brother had dark spikes. The boy resembled his father behind a shadow o a doubt, except for the odd little details here and there, like how his face was slightly narrower and how his jaw was more round. The twins had matching blue eyes, while their father's were green.

She looked at the photo in greater detail and sighed. If only the absence wasn't so strong, she might have been able to cope. She had never known her mother; her father said she had gone missing after their birth -- missing as in assumed dead. But now it was just the two of them: Alyssa and her father.

All because of that stupid accident four years ago. That stupid accident that sent her brother into a coma.

This is why she despised birthdays -- the absence was unbearable.

_Get a grip,_ she thought. _No-use being a pessimist. Besides, camping's going to be ace._ She grinned, camping always cheered her up. She loved the outdoors, where everything was thriving with life instead of locked behind grey prisons. She hated being stuck inside; it was just so boring. That's why she loathed some of her peers, especially the girls. _Eugh!_ Just thinking about it annoyed her, all they did was sit inside all day trying to look pretty and impress boys. Their voices echoed in her mind.

"Does my make-up look okay?"

"Do you think he likes me?"

"Anyone have a mirror?"

She laughed at their vanity. Most boys were more interested in football, anyway. Although, they weren't all bad…she would have probably got on with them better if they didn't make such a fuss about sports or the outdoors. 'Cause to her, insulting the outdoors, was like receiving a punch in the face…a really big, nasty, black-eye causing punch.

She didn't have an aversion to girly things, sometimes it just seemed a little . . . over the top — like 5" heels, for example. Talk about counterproductive, especially when you were going off for a weekend in the woods.

Like she was. Her blue eyes shone as she thought of camping with her uncle; they got on like a house on fire -- on a good day -- and argued like two opposing lawyers on others. This would definitely be a trip to remember.

There was always something interesting going on with her uncle Mike. He was a treasure hunter, which definitely made for some entertainment, even if it was a little on the life-threatening side. They'd always find something worth risking their lives for. Last time, they'd gone diving and found a rare black pearl, the kind that most marine biologists -- or jewellery-obsessed girls, she thought with a sigh -- would give their right arm for. Of course, that was the asking price, according to the large White Sea urchin that hovered alarmingly close to the pearl. Her uncle had taken the pearl anyway and swam to the surface, ending up much too close to the spiny little creature. They'd finished up their trip at the hospital, where her uncle had been treated for semi-serious urchin burns, which had left him in pain, swollen, and beyond happy, because in one red hand he held the pearl. Brave or a fool? That was the question people most often found themselves asking when the name Mike Leberton came up. But then again, what's life without all the risks?

She slipped out into the hallway, hearing the tell-tale snores of her father asleep on the couch. She laughed quietly to herself. This wasn't the first time she'd found him asleep with a book on his lap. Maybe he'd forgotten it was her birthday and wouldn't make a fuss…

Alyssa crossed swiftly and silently around the sofa and approached the front door. She picked up the rucksack she'd packed the night before, slung it over her shoulders and began to turn the door handle, praying her father wouldn't wake up.

"Where do you think you're going?"

_Shit!_ She turned, dropping her bag and forcing a smile that felt -- and mostly likely looked -- more like a grimace.

"You can't leave just yet — there're a few things we still need to sort out." He set his book on the table and beckoned her towards the kitchen.

She sighed and followed him, still eager to leave. They both knew she hated birthdays and why he continually made a fuss she had no idea—although she knew her father loved her, expressing it by birthday celebrations was just _not_ a good idea. From the kitchen they entered the balcony, her favourite place in the apartment. The balcony was at the back of the building, and looked directly into a nearby forest.

Oaks and willows made up the forest, their lush green leaves glowing from the early-morning sunlight. Their branches crisscrossed so much that sometimes they just looked like one tree with many trunks, reaching up to the sky. The wind caused a high-pitched whistle through the trees. It was basically a smaller, less complex version of the forest she camped in. Standing on the balcony, a light earthy aroma came her way. She breathed it in heavily, easing her mind from the birthday blues.

"Now, before you leave to go camping, there's something I need to show you." He stopped, turning to stare at her with a sad smile. "Fifteen years, 'Lyssa. Just look at you." He stopped and put one finger under her chin, lifting it so that he could look her in the eyes. "Your mother would have been proud. "Before she…disappeared."

Alyssa froze, the tears welling up in her throat alarmingly fast. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing now more than ever that her mother was here, if only to get that pain out of her father. And, if she was willing to be selfish, herself.

He put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her into a one-armed hug. "She is still alive until proven otherwise, 'Lyssa. And I believe she is with all my heart, cheesy as that sounds."

She managed a weak smile. "Sounds pretty crazy, too, if that makes you feel better."

He laughed. "That's exactly what I needed to hear -- that my daughter thinks I'm cheesy and crazy." He kissed the top of her head, then glanced at his watch. "Ah! And I'm keeping you late. Don't worry, though. The nightmare ends soon, I promise."

"It's not a nightmare, Dad." And she meant it. Awful as it was for them both to acknowledge the fact that their family had been whittled down to two in far too short a period of time, it was good to know, too. It was necessary.

He nodded, staring off into the forest. "As I was saying, she gave me two items. One for you and the other for . . . well, for Leo." A pained expression crossed his face, but he replaced it with a smile as quickly as he could.

"I thought she left me my diary," she said, her eyebrows drawing together.

"Ah, but that was for your _tenth_ birthday. Your fifteenth is another matter entirely."

He put one hand between her shoulder blades and steered her into the kitchen, his words getting softer and his eyes getting more teary by the minute. Alyssa glanced at her watch -- so much for getting a morning walk in before meeting her uncle -- but said nothing. In fact, part of her liked these speeches about her mother. They made her feel like there was someone else out there who loved her . . . someone female, someone . . . well, someone a bit less like her long-winded father. _Not that I don't love him, _she thought, leaning against his side as he pulled two boxes out of the cupboard. _Besides, considering I'm abandoning him and all, I _owe_ him this. And I think he needs it…At least I'll see him this evening._

"I know it's been difficult without Leo, but I think he would have wanted you to have his present, too. He would have trusted you with it more than anyone. He loved you so much, you know."

Regret instantly crept into at her mind, like a spider trapping its prey. She tried to get rid of it, but she couldn't…If only she hadn't had agreed to go along with that dare game all those years ago…maybe then she would have been going camping with her both her brother, uncle and father, like old times.

He handed her the boxes, which she felt a strange reluctance in taking. They had belonged to a _dead_ person. They were a gift from the dead. There was something undeniably creepy in that. She grabbed the closest one, untied the ribbon, and lifted the lid.

She blinked in disbelief. Surely her mother wouldn't have left her something this precious? In front of her, wrapped in a pearly white tissue, was what appeared to be a white gold and diamond bangle. She looked at her father quizzically. He shrugged and said, "It's yours now. She wanted you to have it."

She caressed the bangle lovingly, feeling her mother more strongly than she ever had, not even when her father talked about her. It was the most beautiful gift she'd ever received. The sides were smooth and shiny, almost like a baby pearl. She worried she might damage or lose it -- it sounded like something she'd do.

Strangely, when she undid the clasp and put it round her wrist, the clasp disappeared as the bangle wound round her arm. It seemed to shrink, too, until it fit perfectly. She stared in disbelief, hoping her father hadn't seen. Luckily he was fiddling with his mobile—probably having another shameful attempt at texting. She laughed. He never did quite understand it.

Curiosity edged into her mind as she reached for the second box. She hated that her brother couldn't have it—but, like her father said, she _was_ going to look after it for him…

For the first time in ages, Alyssa's heart began to race. If the second gift was anything like the first, it would have been worthy of royalty — or maybe a pirate's treasure trove! She began thinking of what could possibly be inside the box, and she suddenly remembered the story of Pandora. She'd had a mysterious box, too, if she recalled correctly.

She couldn't let her curiosity consume her . . . it killed the cat. But she wouldn't follow meekly, a slave to her curiosity. She would lead it by the wrist and make it listen to her.

She grinned and grabbed the larger box. The red box—red for power, passion and endless possibilities. The ultimate performance.

_Feeling strangely poetic, aren't we? _she thought, shaking her head. _Must be the occasion._

She opened the box at long last to see . . . nothing. Not at first, anyway. Then she picked out the thin line that separated the present from its wrapping, which was the exact same colour. It looked like a red harmonica, but there were some definite differences. She spun it around in her palm, trying to figure it out. It was rectangular and hard with steep curved edges, and it fit easily into her palm. It was the same whichever way she turned it. It was much less beautiful than her own gift, and she felt a slight disappointment.

Coming back into the kitchen from the living room was her father. He seemed to be pretty occupied as he grabbed various objects from the cupboards. He stopped for a moment, turning to Alyssa.

"There was something I was supposed to tell you…" He rubbed his stubble-covered chin as if that was supposed to somehow make him remember. "But I can't for the life of me remember it." He chuckled. "I must be getting old."

She smirked. "Dad, you're only 35! You're not old…yet." She giggled and placed the red thing back onto the table.

He rolled his eyes, and then sifted through the papers in his hands. "Aha." He passed a leaflet to her. She looked at it, confused. It read, "Mystic M's Ornaments." _What am I supposed to do with this? _she thought. Almost as if he had read her mind, he answered, "Mike."

That was enough of an answer for her to understand. He was always collecting various treasures, like the black pearl. His birthday wasn't long after hers, so she guessed her father wanted her to stop by and get something for him.

She turned to leave, then stopped, giving her dad a quick, slightly awkward hug. "Bye, Dad. I gotta go meet Uncle Mike. See you later."

He nodded, smiling distractedly down at her before returning to his papers.

"Humph…If it wasn't for work I would be going with you now, but you know how it is. If I get things done now then I can join you this evening." He said glumly.

Then she remembered the red thing. Whatever it was, it was rude to leave it. She reached forward to pick it up.

Almost in reply, a blade shot out from it. She gasped. She worried most when her father turned her way, but he was absorbed in his papers and didn't notice.

She breathed a sigh of relief. If he had seen, he would have taken it off her. He had always said knives were only for criminals, so he wouldn't allow any of them — he barely allowed the kitchen knives. She watched the knife fold back to its usual weird, harmonica-like red thing. She laughed. Red thing. What a weird name.

But it would have to do for now.

She practically sprinted towards the door. This time she flung her bag over her shoulders, stuffed the blade into her pocket (worrying only for a moment that it would spring open in her pocket before forgetting the matter), successfully opened the door and hoofed it down the road. She slowed down as the house faded from sight, listening to her heartbeat slow down. She was especially glad she had packed light.

She got out the leaflet from her pocket and glanced at the map illustrated. That was handy—it was only three blocks away. It only took her 10 minutes to get there; there wasn't much traffic, which struck her as odd. She glanced at the shops in front of her, scanning the names. "Boots"…"Tesco"…"Top chef"…And finally she saw it: "Mystic M's ornaments."

It seemed a little out of place. The door was a strangely clean white, the kind that looked brand-new and unmarked with dirt from nearby cars, people, or the elements, and dark purple curtains hung heavy and thick over the windows. She stepped inside, feeling gentle wisps of scent wrap around her like mist. She wrinkled her nose. It wasn't like she didn't like the aroma; it was just far too strong for her liking. It was fairly dark compared to daylight — the only light was from the fairy lights in the ceiling.

She studied the shelves closely; everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. There were boxes upon boxes and strangely enough, what appeared to be scrolls. _This must be a new shop. Otherwise they would have unpacked, right?_ She just couldn't figure out why there were scrolls either. Hadn't everything written in scrolls been transferred to books, or even computers. _These must be really old, _she thought, too afraid to go near them. They looked like they'd crumble into dust with even one touch.

In the displays many luminescent orbs stood, some circular while others had been shaped into droplets and hearts. However, it was their colours that struck her most; she had never seen such true colours before—like they had been taken straight from a rainbow. "That colour surely can't be real…" she muttered.

"It sure is," a feminine voice replied from behind her.

A fair lady appeared from behind the counter. She was wearing a long flowing dress in earthy shades. She had purple jewellery around her ankles and feline-like features.

She looked directly at Alyssa with narrowed green eyes. There was a second of confusion in her expression before recognition hit.

"Girl, come here." She gestured with her ring-covered hand. Despite the lady's odd behaviour she walked towards her.

"I am Megan. Can I help you? Anything in particular you are looking to buy?"

"Just my uncle's birthday present."

"I see." She pulled an orb out of a box and gestured to it. "This one, perhaps?"

She shook her head. It was pale pink and heart-shaped; much too girly for her uncle.

After a few more trials they found the right one. It was green and shaped like an oval, except the top was twisted and curved. Alyssa went up to the till to pay, but instead of a normal transaction, the shopkeeper put her hand on her wrist for a moment.

"There is something different about you, girl…You seem familiar…What is your name?"

"Alyssa."

She nodded. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but who is your mother?" she asked.

Alyssa faltered. _I wasn't expecting _that. "I don't know, really. She—she disappeared 14 years ago."

It seemed to be what she wanted to hear; the woman's eyes brightened, and she leaned forward, almost as if she was telling a secret. "Do you wish to find your mother again, child? If you could? Would you do anything in your power to find her and help her?"

Alyssa raised her eyebrows, more than a little confused. "I guess so…"

"Are you certain?" She looked her sternly in the eye.

"Yes?" This was starting to get extremely weird, and Alyssa didn't like the way it sounded like she'd made a promise.

She nodded in approval, then began muttering something strange under her breath. Alyssa was getting ready to leave as fast as she could, but the woman stopped before she had a chance. She lifted her head and looked at Alyssa like nothing had happened.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" She smiled. "Today is our two-year anniversary, so you get a free item of your choice with your purchase."

Alyssa glanced around, clueless, and then turned back to her. "I really don't know what to get."

"I thought you might say that," she said, and smirked. She picked up another box and passed it to her. Alyssa looked at it strangely.

"Open it," the shopkeeper said.

Alyssa looked inside to see an oval-shaped violet ornament. She traced her fingers around the edges to find it even smoother than a pearl.

"How did you get it so smooth? And why is it shaped like this?"

"Firstly, that's a trade secret." She winked. "As for the latter, it's Easter. Haven't you noticed all the other oval-shaped ornaments?" She gestured to the right. Alyssa glanced over and laughed at her own stupidity. _There it was. Another thing I had completely missed. If I were Sherlock Holmes, the murderer would get away with fuck all._ She laughed. _I must be too curious in some things that I completely forgot all else._

"Thanks, Megan, you've been a real help today."

"It's no problem! Oh! And happy birthday, Alyssa!"

"Thanks." She smiled, and with that she left to go meet her uncle Mike for camping.

Thanks for reading :)


	3. Thunderclap

Okay, I am like so sorry I am really really slow at updating, but I no longer have much coursework to worry about and most my exams are a long way ahead (thankfully) so I should be able to post the next chapter quicker, possibly. Okay, for all you Inheritence Cycle fans I can say for certain that Eragon & Co. will appear in the next chapter :)

I would like to say a big thanks to _Forestwater_ once again for their amazing help with my story :)

Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritence Cycle – Christopher Paolini does. I may be basing my fanfiction on the Inheritence Cycle, but mostly I try to use my own ideas.

Key:

_Character thoughts_

_*flashback/visions*_

Translations are at the end.

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**Rift Magic: Chapter Three - Thunderclap**

~Alyssa POV~

'_If there was a prize for the wackiest uncle, Mike would win it.'_

Alyssa walked closer to the camp with a big grin on her face. She couldn't help being cheerful; it was just this place . . . the trees stretching above and away from her, the moss and dead leaves springy under her feet, the flowers splashes of colour in the dim and perfuming the air with their tangy scent -- it was all beautiful. Even the bugs flitting around her head and sometimes biting her didn't spoil the mood much. It was her sanctity, her drug, her _home_. It was the one place that could be anything she wanted it to be. She breathed it in, feeling the deep earth and damp musk sink to the floor of her lungs and cycle through her body, bringing it to life.

She passed the campsite to see her uncle had already set up. The tents were spread evenly around a soon-to-be campfire, the fishing rods lay stacked by the largest tent. The only thing she couldn't see was him.

She laughed -- what could he have gotten up to this time? If it wasn't for his salt-and-pepper hair and the odd wrinkle upon his brow, you would have thought he was a mischievous little boy. Well, that was what he was on the inside anyways, 'cause some things just never change. She remembered her father telling her of the daft things they used to get up to when they were young. . . .

_They grinned at each other, peering up at the huge tree that towered above them. It swayed in the breeze as they began to climb -- it was perfect, with low branches and crevices on the trunk to use as footholds. Hand over hand, foot by foot, they clambered into the sky, the ground falling away from them. It was a remarkable feeling, and whenever they stopped to breathe they couldn't help but stare down at the ground and around at the trees with awe. When they'd reached the top, they hugged the trunk as the wind buffeted the tree back and forth under the stormy gray sky. Neither of the boys dared to look down at the river below, which matched the sky almost exactly. The only difference was that while the sky was still with the pre-storm heaviness of black clouds, the river was roiling in the wind, white-capped waves crashing around rocks and shattering into silver droplets._

_"Ready?" Mike asked, his teeth chattering and the wind tossing his hair into an unruly tangle._

_Her father beamed the gap-toothed smile of a boy too young to care about oral cosmetics. "Ready."_

_With one tremendous leap they were soaring through the air and plummeting down, down, down into the whirling waters below. __Splash!__ They sank like stones under the icy water, which blocked out all sound and sight beyond silent grayness. It was like they'd landed on the moon for how alien it felt. As their feet touched the bottom of the river, they kicked up clouds of silt which further hid any vague shapes they might have seen._

_At the same time they reached out for each other's hands, their fingertips brushing in this momentary calm before they leaped up to the surface in search of that much-needed breath._

_When they made it to the surface, they were almost pulled down again by the current. Luckily the river was deeper than it was wide, and with a few minutes of hard swimming, they made it to the bank and heaved themselves onto the cool grass. They lay there for a while, panting and staring up at the sky pregnant with rain._

_"We have to get back soon," Mike said, sitting up on one elbow._

_"Yeah."_

_Mike sat up completely, turning to his brother with another grin, which young boys never seem to find a shortage of. "But we did it."_

_"Yeah." Her father sat up, too, smiling back and holding up one hand. "High five!"_

_Their hands smacked together, sending drips flying from between their palms._

_At that moment, the sky opened up._

She smiled at the memory of that story, which her father had told with a mild voice that belied the words it carried. Her father had always had an art for storytelling she'd admired. With a few well-chosen words he seemed to pick out of the air, he could paint whatever image he wanted in his children's minds and on the insides of their eyelids, down to every gap-toothed grin and stormy sky. Sometimes she thought he'd stretched the truth, but it didn't matter, because the story was always exciting and always made her long to see uncle Mike again, who'd never lost the childlike charm the stories could capture.

Her own father seemed to have lost most of his own boyhood. But sometimes when he talked about those days, lolling on the couch in the evenings with her at his feet or curled up in his lap, she could see the kid he'd once been, freckles and all.

Right now, though, she was looking for the kid who'd never grown up.

She followed the path from the edge of camp. In the distance, she could hear a soft trickling of water, perhaps from a stream or a creek. She headed in that direction; with any luck, her uncle would be there—hopefully not dive-bombing this time. She giggled at the thought.

As she stepped onto the soft grass that grew next to the stream's bank, she saw the curve of her uncle's back as he stood on a large rock in the center of the moving water. He was hunched over with his hands on his knees, staring into the stream with an intensity that made he wonder what he was looking for.

Trying not to slip on the rocks, she made her way to her uncle and tapped him on the back. Surprised, he jerked away from her, nearly falling into the water. She lunged forward and snagged the back of his shirt, pulling him to the safety of the bank.

He turned to her after straightening himself. He grinned. "Well, whatdoya know, it's my favourite niece."

Alyssa rolled her eyes, but she wasn't irritated. This was an old routine she and her uncle had unfailingly practiced -- and she assumed enough people had this routine that it was officially cliche -- and it always made her feel better, for some reason. It was like an old, stretched-out sweatshirt that doesn't even fit anymore and is ugly as sin, but you like it all the better for that. So she said the required response: "Uncle, I'm your _only_ niece."

"Bah! Even if I had thousands you'd still be my favourite!" Like clockwork.

She tapped her chin and pooched out her lips in a mock-serious expression. "Hmm? Are you sure that's not just because I would be the only one mad enough to tolerate your crazy schemes?"

His eyes grew large and he gasped, placing his hands on his heart. "Unthinkable!" he spluttered, shaking his head. "Inconceivable!"

"Speaking of which, just what exactly _were_ you doing?" she asked, placing one hand on her hip and raising one eyebrow.

"I was just trying to catch a fish!" he said, his eyes now wide with innocence rather than shock.

"With your hands?" She looked pointedly down at his arms, which were soaked to the elbow.

"Isn't that what they're for? For doing things?" he asked.

This routine -- him doing something strange, her calling him on it, and his trying to explain it in a reasonable way -- was another old sweatshirt, so soft and familiar that she couldn't help but laugh again.

If there was a prize for the wackiest uncle, Mike would win it.

They began walking back to camp, just talking and laughing about all kinds of nonsense. _Nonsense,_ she thought. _Maybe it is, but it's nonsense that forms the greatest understanding, right?_

Suddenly Mike stopped talking, as if remembering something.

"'Lyssa?"

"Yeah?"

"There's something I'm supposed to tell you." He scuffed at the dirt with his shoe, giving her yet another glimpse of that little boy that never left.

"And that is?"

"You see, um . . . well. . . ." He shifted again, avoiding her gaze and looking over at the second tent.

Falling over various pieces of camping equipment was a rather uncoordinated, lanky kid. Over his shoulder was a camera and on his head was a skunk-like mop. He turned around and her heart sunk.

Oh, great. It was him.

She looked back at her uncle, giving him a why-did-you-do-this-are-you-mad? look.

If there was anyone who could spoil even the best of days, it was him -- that _thing_ with the camera. That annoying little pest.

There was only one person would could have such an effect, and that was her very own cousin, Dave.

_"Why?"_

"Well you see, your Auntie Ann thought he was a little too, ah, _feminine_. So she thought it would be best if he, well, came camping with us."

"Who cares? He ruins everything! Couldn't you just say no to her and get rid of him?" She put her hands on her hips, knowing that she looked like a huge brat but unable to stop herself.

"Now 'Lyssa don't be like that, he's still a person you know and you shouldn't be so hard on him. He's just a little different from you that's all. You know maybe if you actually gave him a chance," he looked her sternly in the eyes, "you two would actually get along. You're family, so act like it." She looked back at him annoyed and huffy. He had already ruined things, Mike had never yelled at her before.

He sighed. " 'Lyssa don't be like that, I really don't want to have to deal with you right now. Just give him a chance, yeah?"

Just at that moment the thing came bouncing over, grinning like an idiot. She grimaced -- how was she going to put up with him? There just was no way she could give him another chance, not after past experiences, even if Mike wanted her too, it was simply impossible.

Her uncle just smiled, and whispered back to her "See. There's nothing wrong with him." _Yeah and I'm the Queen of England. There so _is_ something wrong with him_.

A moment later he tripped, knocking over the bait and sending it flying into her and Mike. Dave paled, shaking his head and mouthing "I'm sorry". Then his eyes rolled back into his head and he fainted. He must have gotten hit pretty hard, but Alyssa had little in the way of pity or understanding. To be fair, she never did, and she knew it annoyed her family and friends, but when it came to Dave, her patience went all the way down to zero.

"ARGGGGGH!!" she shrieked, brushing off the bait.

Her uncle just stood there bemused, then chuckled like a drunken idiot. Now even her own uncle was betraying her!

"I am so NOT putting up with this right now," she said, jutting out her jaw.

Her uncle just shrugged, caught his breath, and then went to help that _thing_. She watched him lift up Dave's head, thumb up an eyelid, and stare into his unseeing eyes. "No concussion," he called back, "but there'll be one hell of a bruise. I think he'll be fine in the long run."

Alyssa sighed, crossing her arms and looking away. "Great," she said, rolling her eyes to the heavens. "That's just excellent."

A while later they had set up a fire and had begun cooking something soft, sweet and delicious: smores.

"It really wasn't my fault, you know. To be honest it was quite funny actually." Mike chuckled.

"Uncle, that's 'cause _everything_ is funny to you," Alyssa said. She turned her stick over, making sure all of her marshmallow was golden on all sides.

"Well, why not? Life's for enjoying, ain't it? Why not see the funnier side of things?"

She shrugged.

"Come on, tell me what's really bothering you. You're rubbish at lying, you know."

Still rotating her melting smore over the fire, she turned to her uncle. "What was my mother like?"

He nodded. "Ah. So that's it." He paused for a moment and brought his thumb to his chin, staring into the fire as though it might speak for him. Mike had never had her father's gift with words. "Shouldn't you ask your father that?"

She sighed. "No. He would just get upset again. He's not easy to talk to about that. Last time he welled up just thinking about it. And my brother. I really miss him. He should be with us now and _not_ Dave." It was like word vomit; she didn't mean to say so much, or so ineloquently, but she couldn't help it.

"Ah, so _that's_ what this is all about. You know there's only so much I can tell you about your mother in one night. The bottom line is she was a strong-willed woman and she loved you and your brother very much — and what went down four years ago was not your fault, and you really should give Dave a chance." Alyssa looked at him with a look that said cut-the-crap-and-be-straight-with-me-already. "Don't look at me like that! I'm being honest here."

"Oh really? Then _why_ does it sound like it came straight out of a Disney film? Next you'll be saying 'hakuna mattata' or 'we're all in this together.'"

"Well, as you've said it I might as well now!" he stood up, took a deep breath and began to sing. "_Hakuna mattata, what a wonderful phrase! Hakuna mattata, ain't no—" __But Alyssa tackled him before he could finish._

He laughed. "Now that's my Alyssa, there's no other girl with as much fighting spirit as you." He grinned.

"This is just one cheesy line after another for you isn't it?" she said, taking a bite out of her smore.

"Well, maybe, but you know Disney is my weakness."

"No, I thought taking risks was your weakness. That and being . . . well, you've got a point there." She laughed and devoured the rest of the sweet.

"And speaking of which . . . close your eyes." He took out a long rectangular parcel from behind him and gave it to her. "You better not have been peeking!"

"I didn't!" She laughed. "What is it, anyway?"

"Open it."

She looked at him quizzically, then back at the parcel in her lap. "Don't you mean unwrap it? It's not in a box. . . ."

He rolled his eyes. "Just _unwrap_ it."

She peeled away the blue wrapping, taking care not to damage whatever might have been inside. Now she was even more confused. What on earth was this? "It's a stick?"

"No. It's one of those Chinese battle staffs you always wanted. Either that or a hiking . . . well, stick."

She stared at the stick, running her fingers along the smooth wood that didn't seem like it could be wood at all, but some sort of strange rock or plastic. "But—"

Mike put a hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to feel guilty about using this. It wasn't your fault. Just try to move past it and enjoy what you've been given. It wasn't cheap."

She smiled and traced the sti—staff. She had always wanted one -- she just didn't want to use it. It was too risky. But the way the separate beams of wood had been strung together was stunning. She twirled it around and brought it to a halt on the ground.

She still knew her stuff. She folded the staff back in two and put it into her — wait, wasn't her rucksack behind her like a second ago? She placed it to one side and turned back to her uncle. "Thanks, really, it's great!" She smiled once more, still curious about the location of her bag.

Her uncle walked off, saying something about meeting her dad.

And then she heard it: a weird child-like scream that tore through the sky, punctuated by a lightning bolt.

_War is coming and my lady has still not returned. I worry for her sake; should she not return now, she may never be able to. A dark haze is consuming the land -- we had to cut ourselves off, to make all forget. We stand strong and protected._

_But we are lonely. We begin to miss the company of our fellow people. Oh, how I wish I could have stopped her leaving, for is a quest more valuable than one's life? I think not._

_I now despise the prophet, for all he has spoken is of bloodshed and black shadows. But if all comes true, we must stay and protect our land. If we can do nothing else, we must stand and persevere._

_Ruscion_

Ruscion lifted his quill from the scroll and put it to one side of the wooden table. It was this same room where he once learned his lady was lost. It had been a long while since he had been joyous. Sure, there had been celebrations, but he and the rest of his people were saddened. No joy was foreseen in the future, and no lady seen to return. He looked out the window to see spells begin to be woven. In the distance, the darkness came crawling across the lands. He could see no hope within it, for hope was on the losing side of the battle. This time. Hope would someday belong to its rightful people alongside victory, peace, and prosperity.

But that was a long time coming, and in the meantime was darkness, pain, and suffering.

Surrounding the castle was a web of rainbows. A beautiful display, one might think, or a pane of glass none could penetrate . . . _but is separation from family really that beautiful?_ _We should have told the others, once we knew. We should have mentioned the rising of the dark . . . but could one really_ _wipe the smiles off millions of faces? And send all into despair? I could not. Soon. Soon we shall be completely submerged into the wilderness, completely concealed to the outside world._

The clunking of footsteps interrupted his dismal thoughts. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Couldn't anyone leave him in peace for one moment? He couldn't always be the leader everyone needed him to be. He needed his space. Reluctantly he turned to see a pair of similar brown eyes upon a face weary and tired. The elf was panting -- he must have been running -- and was clutching a scroll in his battered hands.

"M-Master," he wheezed, resting his hands on his knees.

"Yes?"

He lifted his hands and walked closer. "I-I have news. . . ."

"What is it _now?_ The world is soon to collapse from the dark rider and his ghost?"

"N-no, sir." Tegalad finally caught his breath, and looked directly into Ruscion's eyes. "There is another prophecy, that hope is on wings of the storm, from a faraway land."

Ruscion thought for a moment with his hand on his head. "What possibly could Surda do to help us?"

"Not Surda, sir, a land _much_ further than that."

Ruscion's eyes widened in disbelief and not a little terror. He couldn't figure it out: was it good news or the last of news? _If a connection was made again, who knows what could happen. How could it be hope?_ _Maybe Tegalad got it wrong and that it wasn't hope for us but hope for the opposition. And wings. . . . It couldn't be another, could it? Not after the last. It couldn't be wings that had many times destroyed innocents? It couldn't be wings. Wings like that only belonged to one beast. One beast they called dragon._

_Mike walked through the forest and towards the meeting point. It had been a while since he had seen Steve. They had been best mates as teenagers and when Alyssa appeared it brought them all that much closer, but then drew them apart soon after the accident. He enjoyed her company; it was easy to believe he really was her uncle, blood uncle, anyway, but he didn't like avoiding telling Alyssa the truth._

It wasn't as if he was _lying_ to her. Some things were just better off unsaid. He never knew if he should tell her the truth or not. It was just another complication to deal with, like how to get home, and to complete his mission.

He sighed. He had been given this assignment for a reason. He had given his word he would complete it, but as the days drew by and passed away, it became harder and harder to stick to it. Sometimes he wished he could forget this world and go home, but it wasn't that easy. Steve and Alyssa meant a lot to him, but they could never be his true family. He wished he could go back, to explain why he had to leave . . . and why he made those mistakes. It would be easier to turn his back again, but harder once he turned around to feel the aching wounds inside him.

But would they remember him? Forgive him? And then, just maybe, accept him?

He needed his family back, but for now at least, his duty was to Alyssa, Steve and Dave.

For closed doors rarely open and it is better to seek what's open to you than what's impossible to find.

Alyssa grabbed her rucksack and flung it over her shoulders before she bolted in the direction of the scream. She hoped it was nothing serious, but after that crack, it easily could have been. On the bright side, it sounded as if it would have been enough to put Dave off camping for life — hopefully. Heck, it could have been nothing, knowing what Dave was like. She laughed, but underneath she couldn't help worrying.

As she ran further and pumped her arms harder, she could smell burning in front of her. She turned into a small opening coated with overgrown moss. Shielding her eyes she looked around. A few feet in front of her was a log with a charcoal-coloured gash and, slumped against a tree, was a near-lifeless body. Dave.

She sprinted to his side and pressed her fingers to his cold throat. She nearly collapsed with relief; he still had a pulse.

"Dave! Dave, wake up." She shook his shoulder.

He murmured a few unintelligible words. He was okay. Now she could kill him herself . . . well, maybe.

"Are you okay? Does anything hurt?"

He opened his eyes blearily. "My . . . um. . . ."

"Are you okay? Yes or no?"

"No, I'm not okay!" He sounded both irritated and terrified.

Alyssa couldn't help but feel a spark of annoyance herself. "Well, what's _wrong?"_

"I'm having a mental breakdown."

She rolled her eyes. He'd always been dramatic.

Dave shook his head. "I'm not kidding! I was just looking at this purple oval-shaped thing and all of a sudden I get hit by lightning!"

She raised her eyebrows. "Somehow I don't believe that."

"Okay, so maybe it _was_ a few feet away but what difference does that make? I WAS _ATTACKED!"_

"You really spend too much time in drama club."

"I do not. Besides you can have your stupid oval thing back —"

"You went through my stuff?!" She shook him by the collar.

He squeaked, his head snapping back almost hard enough to hurt. _"Hey!_ Is it really my fault for being fascinated by the world?"

"Arggh!" She dropped him, feeling like she was going to tear out the bark of the nearest tree with her fingernails. "Are you _insane?_ That doesn't give you any right to --" She stopped mid-sentence. A second flash appeared, and Alyssa grabbed Dave and lunged further into the forest. A storm began to rage and they were miles from camp.

_CRACK! __A branch fell down in front of them, causing them to trip and fall. Brushing off the mud from her newly grazed knees she pulled herself up. Spotting shelter, she ran on further into the wilderness. She stopped for a moment, then turned back to Dave and yelled, "Come on, this way!"_

She sprinted further and further as she began to near safety, but she her vision was blurred by wind in her face, the dimness of a sunless sky, and the rainwater spilling down her forehead and into her eyes. Arms struck against the sullen bark, scraping away flesh. The blood seeped down her limbs, mixing with the rainwater.

She tripped over a root sticking just enough out of the ground to catch the bottom of her shoe, and she crashed to the dirt. Grimacing, she bit hard into her lip as her head hit the rock beneath her. The rain smashed against her bloodied cheeks and her limbs began to lose the feeling of limbs and started to feel more like rubbery wet noodles.

She tried to push herself to her feet and couldn't.

Rubbery wet noodles that weighed a hundred pounds.

Blackness was crowding around her vision when she saw a hint of colour dash across her frame of vision, and motherly warmth flowed through her veins. She looked up to see a small creature, innocent and --

Pain rocketed through her hand, pain she'd read about but never thought anyone actually experienced now that torture was illegal. Her head smashed against the rock over and over again as she thrashed on the ground, but she didn't even _think_ about noticing it. The rain, which had only a few moments ago been cold enough to freeze her blood, now fell against her suddenly tender-as-a-newborn's skin in drops of fire and acid.

Her fingers found the root she'd tripped over and she crushed it in her left hand, trying to find a way -- _any_ way -- to get rid of the feeling that she was burning alive and being gnawed to death at the same time.

As the agony reached a point where she couldn't handle it for another second, she did something she'd never thought she'd have to or want to do in her entire life. She reached out into the darkness, her hand flailing around like it was independent of her body, and shrieked in an octave higher than any human could speak without being tormented beyond belief, _"David!"_

Fumbling fingers brushed against hers, and she thought she heard Dave's voice, even though she couldn't tell what he was saying. Before she could do more than scream his name again, there was a blinding flash of light and then nothing.

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Thanks for reading :) And if you have a spare minute, review! :D


	4. La la land

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own the Inheritance cycle – Christopher Paolini does. However the story line is my own along with the majority of the characters.**

**Warning:**** contains mild language**

I would just like to say thanks to 'Forestwater' for her help beta reading my fanfiction. ^;^

Oh and I'm sorry for taking so long to update, there's just too much to do and not enough time to do it in at the moment. If you feel the cannon characters aren't right, can you let me know? Thanks :)

Enjoy! :)

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**Chapter four: La la land**

She jolted awake. Harsh breaths whistled from her lips as she tried to shake off the feeling of the dread filling every thought as that nightmare chorused through her mind: of the storm. Slowly, she brought her body forwards, clutching her knees while sweat dripped from her brow. She felt as if her body had been torn inside, little rips here and there, just so she could feel the pain. Tensing her muscles, she tested the extent of her injuries, searching for uneven structures. But the pain overwhelmed her thoughts. She couldn't pin-point it; it was everywhere. Just seeping through her mind as her body sent bullet signals of alarm around her body, swamping her senses like an ocean of messages, in turn suffocating her like she had a thousand people shouting at her at once. She couldn't handle it.

Alyssa looked around her surroundings, gently feeling the soil beneath her hands while salty tears poured down her cheeks. She was testing if the area was safe. It was still damp and bitterly cold. She decided the storm must have lasted a while. Looking up into the sky, she saw the sun begin to rise. The sky was tinted a zesty orange, as the sun shone through the canopy above her. She had to shield her eyes to avoid its bright gaze. Around her each leaf was glistening from the night's storm and cobwebs changed into an array of diamonds. But she had to be glad it was over . . . wasn't it? She tried looking at the bright side, and found herself almost mesmerized by her surroundings, despite the pain burrowing trenches inside her body.

Not quite awake, she opened her eyes fully, despite their protests to shut them and rest. _Everything…seems to just shine—even my palms_. She moved her hand in front of her, bemused by the rain's effect. She checked over her body once more, still shaking from the pain. Moving her arm in front of her she saw the cuts were still red and angry and the bruises blotchy and violet. Somehow she found the energy to manage a small giggle. _If Leo ever found out I'd got busted up because of a forest, he'd maim me. I could just picture his reaction… _She smiled._ I'd better get back to camp…whichever direction it was in. _She looked around her in confusion -- had she really been that out of it? She sighed. _Well on the upside, I'm not stuck with D-- _

The realization hit her like a punch in the face._ Wait a minute, wasn't he with me last night? Oh shit! Where the hell has that idiot got to now? _She tried focusing on last nights events. She tried blaming it all on him, denying her faults, but she couldn't have been more wrong. David was barely partially to blame, if at all. And even if he was, this was fate.

She scrambled to her feet and begun her trek back to camp, only to be knocked down moments later, lightheaded and moaning in pain. She struggled to keep her thoughts in focus, but the throbbing from her arm demanded all her attention. She could easily confirm her arm was broken, the bone bending at an awkward angle. It sent nausea rippling through her stomach.

_Oh fuck._ _Just great, not only am I stuck somewhere in a forest, cold and alone, I am now flipping handicapped too. Argggg!_

Hobbling around on the floor, she searched for her bag. Her vision, still hazy and marred, saw no such resemblance around her. Frustrated, she continued her search, patting the ground roughly as if it were a punch bag.

"Oww!" she yelled, yanking her hand from the jagged rock beneath it.

She clutched her hand and grimaced. Was there really need for her to injure herself again? Alyssa clenched her eyes shut in a vain attempt to ease the pain. She paused, inhaling deeply in attempt to avoid passing out. Unfortunately, however, pain doesn't fade within an instant. She opened her eyes in annoyance. Feeling helpless, she went to grab the rock to send it flying into a nearby tree, but the rock was gone. She huffed, turned round and came eye to eye with a wall of dark violet. She froze.

She staggered backwards, her eyes widening._ What are you?_

Her eyes followed the outline of the creature. It had spiky scales covering every inch of its body—they were a dazzling violet while its underbelly had a lighter pink hue—apart from its large puppy-like eyes. You could almost see the creature as cute and it stood only a few feet off the ground, like a small cat in size and looking almost innocent as it waved its scaly tail across the dirt. Until you saw it had sharp silver claws embedded into its paws that looked like treacherous knives that could cut your throat out at any given moment…and it had _six_ limbs.

She stared in disbelief. She brought her hand to her head to rub her eyes when she noticed the headache begin to form on the brink of her mind. _Argg! Now what?_

She was so caught up for a moment that she didn't see the purple creature edge closer towards her. Alyssa flinched as its marble-like skin brushed her injured wrist. She couldn't believe it. It must be a dream. Surely? Her gaze moved back to its other limbs. They looked streamlined and delicate, yet also strong and leathery; they looked like wings.

_Okay. I admit it. I am officially crazy. I am hallucinating a dragon is nudging my wrist._ She gasped. _Maybe I'm dreaming? _She giggled. _Yeah, I'm not _that _crazy. So, dream, where to next? Ooh I know! Let's go to the beach! _Shutting her eyes, she refocused her thoughts to all the beaches she had ever been to. The soft sands beneath her feet, the cool ices soothing her parched throat and the tender warmth of the sun as it beat down on her back.

She smiled and re-opened her eyes; frowning, she noticed this dream wasn't going to be kind. She was still in the forest. And _still_ dreaming of a dragon. She sighed.

_Why did you have to be cruel, dream? Did I do something wrong? Or did David mess up _again_?_

Suddenly the purple creature took her full attention as it snorted a stream of smoke, knocking her out of her moment of self-pity. It looked sternly at her as if to say, "Hey, stop your moping and look at _me_ a moment!" She was taken aback. Its eyes looked wise, and somehow…human? Noticing the pain begin to ease but not really considering it, she realised the creature might be hungry. As if hypnotized, she crawled towards her bag, avoiding putting any pressure onto her wounded arm.

She reached into her bag and almost absentmindedly tossed a piece of meat towards the dragon. At which it seemed to look at her like, "Thank you -- it's nice to be noticed for a change," as it marched around holding its small head high, then darted towards the meat, gobbling it up like it hadn't ever tasted the tenderness before. It looked back up at her, licking its lips as a piece of stray meat hung off its tooth. She smiled, pleased at its effect and tossed the creature a second piece.

She began to hum a tune, nearly forgetting her injuries and petted the creature softly. _Hmm…you look like Spyro._ She giggled, remembering the popular video game character—and all the funny memories that came with it. Even her dad dreamt of Spyro one night, after she and Leo had been playing on the game all day. They could never quite get it that Spyro was only a one-player game, so they always played together, even if they disliked the idea of sharing, but in the end, it was fun all the same.

"If we're both stuck here, in the land of weird dreams, I might as well name you," she said, looking at the creature in her lap. "I think I remember writing some names down from my Dad's stories he used to tell me as a kid. Maybe one of them would suit ya?" She grinned, reaching for her notebook. She began flicking through the pages, making sure not to jostle or hit it.

"How about Celebriän?" she said, her finger resting on the word. "It means angel, and you do look kind of cute…when you forget your claws…nah, I don't think it fits, even if you have wings. What do you think, little dragon?"

The dragon just seemed to roll its eyes, like it was bored of the task.

"Hmm, I thought so too. How about…" She ran her figure down the list and selected another name. "Máraran? It means patient."

A soft rumbling came from the direction of the dragon, like it was laughing at the thought of the name. "Okay, I take it you're _far_ from patient." She winked. "That's good.

"Maybe you'd like this one?" She pointed to the name on the pad, reading it out loud. "Ophelia."

The dragon placed a paw over its head, as if trying to drown out the thought.

"Too Shakespeare-y, eh? I don't blame ya, didn't she drown herself or something? How about…" She continued to trace her finger down the page, disappointment welling inside her; the rest of the names were horrible. She turned the page over, hoping for something to strike her. Nothing was there either. She turned the pages faster and faster, nearly tearing at the pages. Then she stopped.

Grinning, she turned to the purple beast below her and said, "I think I know what your name should be." Pausing, she lowered her head closer to the creature and whispered into its ear.

"It's good to see you," she said, "my little purple protector, Táranis." The dragon's eyes grew wide in recognition, turned, and placed its paw upon her hand.

A while later, accompanied by rustling from the bushes, a figure stepped into the clearing. The shadows from the canopy above them masked his or her face, but the outline of its body was clear. It was tall and lanky, belying footsteps that were clumsy and uneven. Its breathing was husky, as if he or she'd been running. But running from what? As it walked closer, stumbling as it went, it became clear whoever it was was male—not because his clumsiness, but because the way his feet hit the ground, and the way his shoulders were broad. Although, male he may be, there was only one boy Alyssa knew of who tripped so easily: David.

"Oh hey, David, how ya doing?" she called out to him. "Didn't expect to see you here," she said, gazing upwards at his brown eyes. _Actually, that is strange. Why on Earth would I be dreaming of him?_

He gave her a strange look; she usually bit his head off every time she saw him. His eyes widened as he saw how torn up she was. "Are you feeling—" He froze. "W-what is that thing?" he stuttered, pointing a shaky hand towards the beast as his face paled.

"Oh this? This is just my dragon friend Táranis," she smiled.

"D-dragon? F-friend? You're kidding, right? You're petrified of lizards, that thing could claw your throat out at any second, and even worse, it's a _hatchling._"

"So it's harmless." She grinned, petting the beast's head like you would a cat.

"Yeah—but its mum might not be. Alyssa, do I have to scream at you? You are holding a _lizard! _It could _kill_ you! Or its mum might."

"M-mum? You mean…there's a bigger one?" She panicked, jerking away from Táranis and causing her to fall off Alyssa's lap.

She looked up at Alyssa with wide eyes; why was she throwing her off? What had she done wrong? She tried climbing back onto Alyssa's lap, but she just…backed away, like a rabbit might from a fox. Come to think of it, a rabbit _did_ sound good to her right now…

"Yes, that's what I came here to warn you about. I thought I imagined it but…apparently not," he said.

"Davvvvvviiiid!!" Alyssa screamed. "We've got to get out of here! It could kill me -- I mean us!" She grabbed his shirt and shook him as her voice climbed to higher octaves.

"I've got one word to say." He paused. _"Run!"_

They began to run out of the clearing and away from the little dragon. After a few moments, Alyssa collapsed onto Dave, leaning on him for support.

"Come on, we've got to keep going or it'll be back in a minute," he said, pulling her arm to guide her upright.

"Owwwww! My arm! It hurts!"

"Well why didn't you say so earlier?" he asked.

"Because I thought this was a fricking dream! In dreams you don't think of things like that! Well any _normal_ person wouldn't." She huffed

"But Alyssa, you're far from normal. You're bonkers." He laughed. "Just be careful 'kay?"

A loud rumble zipped through the air, stopping any laughter in its tracks. Eyes widened and their bodies froze.

"Could it be…?" It didn't need to be finished.

"Might be." She paused. "Let's go the _other_ way," she said, jerking her thumb away from the rumbling sound.

"Wait…can I just…" He started towards the rumble, rummaging in his bag.

"What do you think you're doing?" she spat, following closely behind him for support.

He continued walking through the forest, pushing past branches as he went with a silver object concealed in his hand.

"I said," she snapped, "what _do_ you think you're doing?"

"Shhh," he said, gesturing for her stop.

"I _sehhh-ed_ --"

"I heard you the first time, now _shut it_. If you really want to know, _this_ is what I'm doing." He indicated towards the silver object, moving his hand so Alyssa could see it clearly.

"You are crazy. You can't seriously be taking a—"

"Well I won't get a chance to if you won't shut it for a sec."

He placed the object in his palm, switched it on and aligned it in front of him. Alyssa watched as he aligned it, and then gasped as she saw what he was pointing it at.

"It's a-a- it's a d-dragon, a _big_ dragon…" she said, looking at the sapphire beast in front of her. Silently she prayed they wouldn't be seen, and thanked God for the measly few feet of foliage between them and the beast.

He moved one finger to his lips and glared at her.

After that, time just seemed to be racing ahead. David had a fit because the branch was in the way, he couldn't get the right alignment. He stepped closer, causing Alyssa to fall forward, and then, after that, they were face to face with a very livid dragon.

"Oh. Shit," Alyssa muttered.

"Okay…I admit this time it was my fault…" He put his hand over his head, and like Alyssa, he was frozen. "So what the hell do we do now?"

The dragon turned to the pair, staring into their eyes.

_Oh my god. It's going to eat us._

The dragon glared at Alyssa; while unknown to her, Táranis had returned, curling round her feet. After a moment, she looked down, screamed, and sprinted across the clearing. Noticing the dragon become even angrier than before, she then noticed Táranis, then the dragon once more. They looked unnervingly similar. _Oh shit, shit, shit. It's its flipping mother. Oh gawd, I'm going to dieeeeeeee._

To any onlookers, such as David, she looked like mad woman flailing around a clearing, screaming and whimpering at octaves that shouldn't _ever _have to be known to man.

It was just at that moment when a middle-aged man with dark hair appeared from behind the dragon. Alongside him, a younger lad followed, looking strangely amused with the situation.

Alyssa stopped dead in her tracks. _I'm still alive…?_ She gazed at the duo front of her, then back to the dragon. Her head was spinning -- what was going on? She looked at David for advice, but he merely shrugged, also baffled by the situation. She gazed down at the smaller, purple-scaled dragon, and it looked back up at her. _Maybe it isn't so dangerous after all?_

_Alyssa._

The thought sent every nerve in her body into alarm. The headache was growing stronger, feeding off her remaining strength. It was then she began to lose control of her body, each cell becoming weaker and weaker_. I just want to sleep… _Her knees buckled, and her head lolled forward as she leaned on David.

The older man approached Alyssa, who was now being supported by David.

"Where are you from? You do not appear to be from around here," he asked, noting her jeans warily.

Although she felt weak and tired, somehow she just had enough energy to withstand one last conversation. Even if it was only to argue.

"Why should I tell you that?" she spat.

The old man rolled his eyes, seeming to think he was her superior. _How dare he?_ _Stupid git._

"Do I need to ask again?"

"Look man, I wouldn't bother. When she's in one of these moods she practically bites your head off," David said.

"Understood. And you are?"

"David." He grinned.

"Right, calm your sister, will you?"

"He's not my brother," Alyssa snarled.

"Well, whoever you are, just show me your hands."

"You what?"

"Show. Me. Your. Hands."

She paused, unsure whether to trust the strange man, but without much strength left to argue, she just gave in; she extended her hand. The older man began analysing her wounds, and then turned her palm so it would be facing upwards.

His eyes went wide. He began mumbling something too softly for them to hear.

"What? It's just a scratch, it'll heal." The man just ignored her and turned to the younger lad.

"Evan, ask Saphira to lend you some of her power; we need to heal this girl," he said, worry echoing through his words.

"Wait, who are you…?" she said, barely able to stay focused on the conversation.

"Nobody. Just an ol' man, a storyteller—but you can call me Neal."

* * *

Thanks for reading :) And if you have a spare minute, please review!


	5. Wounded

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Inheritance cycle – Christopher Paolini does. However the story line is my own along with the majority of the characters.

A/N: This chapter's a little shorter than usual, but it just felt wrong adding any more to it. So I hope you guys don't mind? Thanks for reading :)

Before you read, I'd just like to say thanks to my fabulousa beta-reader 'Forestwater' – she's absolutely amazing :D

Zoe x

* * *

Wounded

A soft buzzing filled her ears, making it that much harder to open her eyes. In the end, she gave up, surrendering to her dreams once more.

"Come on, sleepyhead, wake up."

Alyssa groaned and turned over. _I am so not getting up just yet…just a few more minutes…_

"Ali," they said. Their voice rung in her ears; there was something familiar about it. Only one person ever called her that. A sudden realisation raced through her. She opened her eyes and looked up eagerly. "Leo?"

He smiled down at her, same as he used to. That same untameable brown hair, those same mischievous eyes…except for that alien scar across his jaw; that was new. It wasn't supposed to be there. She studied it closer, seeing the jagged white line tear across his jaw at uneven angles. That couldn't have been an accident.

"Leo, what happened to you?" She stood up, walking towards her twin, but he just shook his head and ran into the trees. She raced after him, but moaned as pain screamed through her body, forcing her to come to a stop. Hearing her cry, he half-turned and waited for her to catch up.

"Leo, why'd you run from me? I've missed you so much." She walked towards him, caught his hand and then brought him into a friendly embrace, ignoring the pain. "Please don't go, Leo, please don't leave me again," she sniffed into his brown shirt, unable to hold back her tears.

The boy looked helpless. A strange girl was hugging him, and calling him "Leo", and what's worse, she was _crying_.

"Brom! David!" he yelled, shoving Alyssa off. She fell to the floor and clutched her knees. Her own brother had rejected her. "Leo, I'm sorry! I didn't know they'd do this to you. I didn't know -- I couldn't have known…I'm sorry…" She pressed her forehead against her knees, feeling a raging headache coming on. "I'm sorry…sorry…sorry," she repeated as tears ran down her cheeks.

A middle-aged man and a lanky boy ran towards them.

"What is going on?" Brom asked, looking back and forth between Eragon and Alyssa.

"She's crazy! I was just minding my own business, when she" -- he indicated to the brunette -- "ran over and started hugging me and calling me Leo. And then she started crying of all things. I'm telling you Brom, she's mad. Who cares if she's a rider, let's just go. Leave her to it."

Brom glared at him, and then projected his thoughts into Eragon's mind.

_I thought I told you to keep our identities a secret! And don't be so quick to judge, boy,_ he thought, still glaring at Eragon.

_Who cares? She's crazy! _Eragon thought back to Brom.

"Wait, she's not crazy. She just mistook you for her brother. And she may not be the nicest of people, but she's still my cousin, and I'd appreciate it if you treated her with some respect," David said, kneeling beside Alyssa.

"Leo…?" She looked around her, sobbing harder than before. She'd done it again; he was gone, just like before, and it was all her fault.

"It's all right, Lyss," David said, putting his arm around her. "It'll be over soon," he breathed.

A small, kitten-sized creature rushed over to her, poking its purple snout underneath Alyssa's arm. Images of confusion rushed into her mind, of sadness and loneliness. It was heartbreaking. She saw an image of an egg trapped and lonely, while surrounding it the other eggs hatched one by one as their riders came and went. One by one the room got smaller and smaller. And quickly, those thousands turned to one. Its rider hadn't claimed her. Nobody wanted her. She was alone. The days stretched to months as the people came and went, and still her rider hadn't arrived. Then, one day someone different came, could they be my rider? She thought. Then something strange happened.

They wouldn't touch her, wouldn't claim her, sending her into darkness, and soon she was lost.

_Alyssa, I'm here,_ she thought, snuggling further into her lap.

"David, do you think you could shed some light on the situation? I'm rather baffled by it…who exactly is Leo?" Brom asked.

"It's a long story…let's just say that Leo was Alyssa's twin, and many years back, there was an accident…"

"Yeah, an accident that made her insane!" Eragon snarled.

"How dare you! You arrogant git, you don't even know us! Why don't you just shut it if you don't have anything nice to say mate?" David glared at Eragon.

The boy rider stormed off, yelling "Saphira!" and stomping on everything in sight.

"David?" she said.

"Yeah?"

"I want to go home."

David's eyes fell, and he sighed. "Alyssa, I don't know how to tell you this . . . but we _can't_."

"Why not?"

"Because I have no idea where we are. If I knew how, I'd take you home…but something tells me we're not in England anymore."

Alyssa raised one eyebrow, returning to her usual self. "Not in England? Where do you think we are then? France? Of _course_ we're in England, there's no way we couldn't be. Scotland's too far north, Wales and Ireland are much farther west. We're in England, David. Where else could we be?"

"I have no idea where you're speaking of, but you're not in -- was it 'England', you said? We are a few leagues away from Teirm. Perhaps I could show you back to the port, so you could find your way back? And if you cannot find a way, perhaps you and your dragon could travel with us. I believe that I can help you with your training."

"Thank you, sir –"

"Training? Whatcha mean training? I'm not going to the army, and I ain't no fitness freak, so why do I need training?" she snapped.

Brom chuckled at that. "Because you are a rider, and unless you wish to be killed, you need to know how to defend yourself – but if you'd rather die, then far be it for me to stop you," he said, heading in the direction that Eragon went.

"Die? Dave what is that old git barking on about?"

"I think he's talking about that dragon on your lap."

"She's a lizard, not a dragon. Don't be daft, Dave."

"Well whatever she is, if you don't learn how to defend yourself, you're dead. And I don't know about you, but I prefer being above the ground." He paused. "So I'm going with them." He stood and went after Brom.

"Fine!" she yelled, "We'll be fine here, won't we Tar?" She looked down, the dragon was gone. "Tar? Tar? Where'd you go?

"Oh shit..." she said, scrambling to her feet, "Wait up!" she yelled, "I'm coming!"

_Good choice -- we need them, you know._ Taranis flew over Alyssa's head, then dove back into her arms. _You won't regret this…and they have food, _she thought, licking her lips.

"So this isn't a dream?" she said, looking down at Taranis.

_Pah! As if you could have dreamt up me! _the dragon thought, then added_, No Alyssa, this is waking from the dream._

Later that night, they sat around a campfire, eating some sort of stew Brom and David cooked up. Eragon was slumped against a tree, still annoyed that Brom invited them along. He seemed to be blanking everyone – even Saphira.

"So what was that all about earlier?" David said, turning to Alyssa after swallowing some of his "stew"; from what Alyssa knew of David and cooking, the two should never be placed in the same sentence, so it was hard to judge if whatever they'd cooked up actually was edible or not.

"What was what about?" she asked.

"You know…the Leo thing?"

"There wasn't a Leo thing?" she said, taking a mouthful and swallowing, "Leo's in hospital, David. I thought you knew that? If he's there, then how can he be here?"

"But…"

"But nothing. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Interesting…it appears you don't actually remember what happened," Brom said, stroking his beard.

"Or she's lying," Eragon muttered.

"She's not."

"Excuse me, I do have a name, you know," Alyssa huffed.

"I prefer 'she'," Eragon snapped, glaring at Alyssa.

"Silence! Enough of this -- you're acting like an old married couple!"

"We're not!" they yelled, which caused David to burst into laughter.

"If you want to argue, do it out of my company," Brom finished. "Now, when we reach Teirm, we'll need to meet up with a friend of mine – Jeod, he's got a few ships at the port, so I think it'll be a safe bet to say he could take you back to what you call 'England'" -- he glanced over to Eragon, then continued. "Perhaps he'll be able to help, and if not, you can stay with us – providing you listen to my instruction."

"Your instruction –"

"We'll stay with you."

"What?" she turned to David, "Have you lost your mind or what? I swear David, you're becoming weirder every day."

"No, just being logical. Besides, even if you're my cousin, you're still hopeless at making decisions – or following instructions," he mused.

"Hey! Just who's side are you on here?"

"Side? I'm on nobody's side. Sides are for kids." He smirked.

Brom rolled his eyes, "Are you two quite finished?"

"Yeah, we are. Alyssa just doesn't like being told what to do," David said with a laugh.

"Whatever," she muttered, turning to pet Taranis.

_You know, sometimes Dave can be a right pain in the arse._

_And sometimes he can cook some pretty good chicken…_

_You and your food! I swear you're practically the same as –_

_As…?_

Alyssa was silent, building walls around her mind.

_What's wrong, Alyssa?_

She sighed. _Doesn't matter, Tar, doesn't matter._

_Suit yourself, but you know I'm bound to you now. I am your dragon after all…but we should go with Brom. He seems…interesting._

_You mean he has food._

_And that, but I don't want to be known as the meekest of dragons –_

_Just the one that eats the most?_

_Pfft! I eat barely anything. Besides, those rabbits had it coming to them._

_What? All 3 of them?_

The dragon just grinned, licking its teeth for any last remnants.

"It's a long day ahead. You ready, 'Lyss?"

"No."

"Well tough," Dave grinned, pulling her to her feet, "because you're coming if you like it or not."

"But I'm injured," she said.

"Nah, the only thing that's injured is your pride, but unfortunately Eragon can't heal that."

"Eragon?"

"What about him?"

"He healed me?"

"Well, yeah…"

"Why?"

"I don't know, just be glad he did – you know how bad I am at it."

"Yeah, you f—" David shoved his hand over her mouth, "Don't say another word," he said. "I want to make a good impression with Brom, whether you like him or not. He seems like a valuable ally."

"Ally?" She raised her eyebrow. "Okay, you have _so_ been playing too many video games. This isn't war. This is just a camping trip that went a bit…weird. Let's just find our way back to Uncle Mike, all right?"

"Sure, whatever. But you need to get off your arse and walk." He picked up a bag and chucked it to her. "And carry this while you're at it – it might do you some good." He smirked as Alyssa reluctantly caught it and slung it over her shoulders.

"I don't think I'll like this journey," she said. "It's already crazier than a footie match. And that's saying something."

"As long as you walk, I don't care. Just come, it won't be that bad. I promise. It'll be an adventure. Even for grumpy teens like you."

"Even for me?"

"Even for you."

* * *

And that's it, so whatcha think? Good? Bad? Let me know and leave a review – you never know, I might just update more often if more people review… ;)


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